


Renewal

by Sawadoot



Series: Rebirth [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gen, basically scrambled 2am thoughts about atem being reborn, its a poetic dump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8385367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sawadoot/pseuds/Sawadoot
Summary: To breathe where the light touches and the land meets the sky.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Edited 1/10/17

_**By a route obscure and lonely,  
** _

_**Haunted by ill angels only,** _

Fitful, no sound yet reaches his ears. Sight obscured in the weight of breaths deaf to soundless whispers. Would his hand be laid upon his heart? He cannot feel it, he cannot feel his chest nor see it.

There is no pulse. He knows he isn’t breathing. Could he have a heart as well, does it beat inside the fractures of his body? Or perhaps he is no form.

Dust or mist.

Only spurred by the consistent throb of dull pain where his heart might be. A name? What is a name to formless mass, to a long forgotten person? Who has fought the greatest wars to regain a peaceful rest, who had a body?

Dual times he was coupled with an existent form. One of origin and one of destiny.

Dreams, he remains in a world of dreams to which there is no escape. Seeking endlessly. Crying out from his prison. Comforted by faces of past events.

But no one desires a wandering soul.

One had, but he’s been so long in the dark the time must be past due, lingering in the revelation of lonesome form.

_**Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,** _

_**On a black throne reigns upright,** _

He knows his name. It only had no significance, no one will call on it again.

No lips will murmur his name, the name of a pharaoh.

**Atem.**

Eyes desperate to piece out the endless darkness, he screams. It tears through himself, and despite it all, it reaches his ears as a low hum. Is he dead?

Could this be an afterlife for the wicked souls, devoured by Ammit? Is his body not only dead but his soul as well?

**Atem.**

A lovely dream. A desire in repeated spiral in which no time or space exists. It had been so long, since complete solitude. It’s lonesome.

Reverse time. Return the sun to his eyes. Bring the sensations of water and the wind, soft scents, harsh endless nature of things.

Give him back.

**Atem.**

Restore it all.

He prays to each God, to every divine being he knows of. Fervently asking to return, for fear, for the swirling cycle of uncertainty. To see his face but once more, to thread hands of glittering gold. To touch. He desires to touch, a warmth that this confinement never brings.

Atem wants to live again.

_**I have reached these lands but newly** _

_**From an ultimate dim Thule—** _

To breathe where the light touches and the land meets the sky.

Could he number the stars? To obtain his wish? Endlessly counting, driven by the gift to be received. Hypnotized by the steadily growing warmth.

And he sees his hands now, white with fire. Touching to each star which ignites dancing blue flames. Closer and closer. Reaching further towards the obscured face his heart remembers, it’s returning.

The work is never complete but he hears it! Indeed a voice! Real and deep, sending shivers through him. It’s telling him of whose heart it has seen, a messenger of the Gods! His prayers, his work has been seen! Appeased, they offer.

A gift at last!

Physical form matters not for the prospect of wandering the earth as a lonely spirit is enough. He will search the human plane of existence for that person. But see here! A deceased body they offer through a willing spirit who wishes not to return.

He will enter unknown even through physical form. No one will know except him.

Not even the bearer of this body nor the one who birthed it will remember him. Miracle of miracles!

To wake in a pit of vipers is not daunting for one who has counted the very stars.

And so, Atem discovers they are to be his companions. The ability to communicate with serpents is to aid him for all his toil.

A shaky hand presses against his new heart, one that beats. Warmth floods him.

Atem is human again.

Atem is a whole.

_**From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,** _

_**Out of SPACE—Out of TIME.** _

In exchange for dreams. No longer will he dream.

However, it is but a measly price to pay for this gift. Eyes snap open, the scent fills him and Atem realizes he has returned. It is cold, wet.

Rebirthed in a river of flowing water. Atem graces his face, new and his very own, with a smile.

“I thank you, Gods.”

He will not take this life for granted.


End file.
